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The Reaper/Abandon Ship
From Halo: Indelible Past The Reaper leaned over his latest experiment. This latest Sangheili had a remarkably sturdy composition; the aliens had naturally-occurring strength and durability, but this one's muscles and bone structure were even more well-developed than the average subject. Probably a warrior, or at least he was at some point in his life. That life was over now, thanks to the toxins the Reaper had exposed the subject to at the beginning of their session together. The formula had progressed considerably since the Sanghelios operation had begun. Paralysis had been almost instantaneous, and the subject hadn't even known he was being exposed until his limbs had seized up and stopped working. Higher brain functions had shut down less than a minute after that, and the subject's pulse had flatlined exactly three minutes and twenty three seconds after initial exposure. It was good. Good, but not perfect. Sliding his scalpel down the dead subject's arm, the Reaper checked his progress via a chart of the Sangheili anatomy displayed before him on his helmet's HUD. He still hadn't figured out how to make the toxins lethal exclusively to Sangheili. Based on the tests he'd run on himself, the worst side effect they induced in humans was nausea and vomiting, but he wouldn't cut corners and begin mass-production until he was certain they were perfectly safe for humans. A case of vomiting might be the worst they could do to a fit and healthy human like himself, but an infant or the infirm might be a different story. It was a risk he simply refused to take. But once it was safe for humans... The Reaper smiled behind his helmet, making a note of the nerve endings his scalpel was uncovering on his HUD chart. The ability to release the toxic agent in the major breeding grounds, the cities and keeps of Sanghelios, would make all the pain and effort he'd poured into the last decade and a half more than worth it. And if he could somehow introduce it into the atmosphere... These animals die out, and the UNSC has no one left to challenge it on the galactic stage. And humanity will never be threatened by anything like the Covenant ever again. It would even be worth becoming a hired dog for greed-driven scum like the Syndicate in order to fund his research. And having to put up with Venter's nonsense... He rolled his eyes. It was doubtful Venter would even deploy the nerve agent if it was given to him. He'd proven to be utterly useless for field-testing some of the other poisons the Reaper had concocted so far. The insurrectionist completely failed to grasp the elegant potential of chemical warfare, though the Reaper supposed this was better for humanity in the long run. If the man couldn't shoot it or blow it up, he couldn't be bothered by it. Had the Reaper laced that one female with toxins rather than a bomb a few days ago he doubted Venter would have even agreed to deploy her. There wasn't much more he could learn from this subject that he hadn't already confirmed before on previous subjects. Time to wrap up and call it a day, then. Perhaps he should go check on G294 and the girl down in the cell. They might need more water, and he could probably scrounge some rations for them as well. Poor G294, he mused, setting his scalpel down. The young man shared so many similarities with him, yet their paths had differed so wildly. Truth be told, the Reaper felt sorry for him. To become such a broken husk that he'd forgotten his role as a defender of humanity was heart-breaking. The least the Reaper could do was ease his suffering as much as he could before Venter decided to do away with him. He had just decided to do just that when the alarms began blaring. Frowning, the Reaper reactivated his helmet radio in time to hear someone shouting: "They're inside! Repeat, Elites inside the facility! Oh God, they're everywhere...!" The transmission ended in a burst of static, but the Reaper already knew what was happening. The jig was up, and now this facility was about to be burnt to the ground along with everyone in it. The only real surprise was that it hadn't happened sooner. Crossing over to his workbench, the Reaper quickly downloaded all of his research data from the station computer and then copied the files into his helmet's computer, just to be safe. He slipped the data chips containing his research data into one of his ammunition pouches, then picked up his assault rifle and combat pack from the floor. Flicking the safety off, he sprayed the workbench with machine gun fire. When the clip was empty, he prepped three grenades and set them for a timed detonation of two minutes. He couldn't let the Sangheili see the extent of his research. It wouldn't do for them to start developing countermeasures. After placing the grenades throughout the room, the Reaper reloaded his assault rifle and headed over to the door. He could already here the familiar mingling of bullet and plasma fire in the distance. Time to abandon ship. Category:Actene